‘No. And no one knows when he will be,’ Sarah said.
‘It was in the paper that he was helping the Northern police with a double murder,’ Gus told him. ‘The report said the victims were found in their own beds with their throats cut.’
Sarah gave her youngest son a sharp look.
‘I reported it to the desk officer,’ she continued. ‘But he said they had hundreds of missing children and didn’t have time to look for all of them.’
Despite his resolve to put on his best show for his mother, Patrick hung his head in his hands.
‘Don’t you mind none,’ Sarah said, moving her chair nearer to the grill. ‘Josie has the whole neighbourhood searching for them. She found some packing-case paper and made posters with Annie and Mickey’s description and has been from The Highway to Whitechapel High Street and everywhere in between, sticking them up in any shop that’ll take them.’
‘She’s done the same around the riverside eating houses, too,’ Gus added.
The chill in Patrick’s heart thawed slightly.
‘You should have seen her march into the Town to get the dockers and boatmen to help. Thanks to her they are keeping a sharp eye out to stop anyone trying to force Mickey on a ship.’
‘She’s even been down Betts Street and Rosemary Lane to have a quiet word with some of the trollops about Annie,’ Sarah added.
Images of Josie wandering down the dark alleys where every shabby house was either a brothel or gin shop filled him with horror.
‘Now, now, Patrick she came to no harm,’ Sarah said, seeing his shocked expression. ‘The women might pay Ma for their pitches but, as Josie said, most of them have a child or two to care for, and might just come forward with a bit of gossip as to Annie’s whereabouts.’
Patrick tasted bile at the back of his throat.
‘Josie, God and all his blessed saints preserve her, is a fighter and one of the best.’ Sarah went on. ‘I’ve known from the first moment I saw you and her together that you were made for each other. A rare pair you are and no argument in it. I’m glad you and she have made it together at last.’
‘I don’t think she’s glad,’ he said. ‘She gave up everything and what have I given her?’
‘Aroon, lad,’ Sarah said, in a tone he hadn’t heard for many years. ‘She’d rip your ears off if she heard you talking gloomy like that, and you know it.’
He knew his mother was right, and he wished he had Josie in front of him now as well, if only to give him one of her royal pastings for voicing such dark thoughts.
Of course, she couldn’t come as only legal wives were allowed to visit. As much as he didn’t want Josie to see him chained and dirty, being apart from her was sapping the life out of him. What with his fears about Annie and Mickey and his separation from Josie, Patrick was beginning to wonder if he’d survive with his sanity intact.
Sarah reached out and gripped the bar. The prison officer to one side of them placed his stick on the table. Sarah withdrew her hand and folded it on her lap.
‘Don’t fret, me lad,’ she said in a soft voice. ‘Josie’s raised the neighbourhood and it’s only a matter of time before we find the children and bring them home.’
Patrick prayed that her words would reach the saints in heaven - and soon.
‘Although the boatmen were a bit unsettled about you getting involved with the police and all, once your Josie explained why, they’ve pledged a sixpence a week to pay for a solicitor for when you go to court,’ Gus added.
A lump formed itself in Patrick’s throat.
‘That’s really good of them,’ he said, touched by the gesture but wondering what difference it would make against Plant’s testimony.
‘Also, this arrived.’ Sarah put her hand into her pocket and drew out a large crumpled envelope.
Patrick stared at it. It had a colourful stamp on the corner and several ink marks over its surface. But what caught his attention was the large VR Fort William, Alexandria, stamped above his name.
‘Open it, Mam.’
His mother ripped the seal off and held it up.
I am sorry to inform you that your wife, Rosa Nolan, along with twenty-seven other members of the garrison succumbed to typhus fever on the 17th January 1844 and it is recorded as such in the garrison records. I offer you my sympathy and can assure you that she was laid to rest in the garrison cemetery.
Rev Adolphus Watson
Patrick let his head fall back.
God, how the Devil liked to twist his fork in a poor man and no mistake, he thought, as all the possibilities that had been snatched away from him rose up in his mind. He had the urge to laugh out loud but knew that the sound he made would instead be a howl of pain.
Patrick gave a humourless laugh. ‘Rosa is dead. I have been a free man since January.’
Sarah and Gus crossed themselves rapidly.
‘Praise the Virgin. Wait until Josie hears,’ Sarah said.
‘I don’t want you to tell her,’ Patrick said.
Sarah looked puzzled. ‘But why not?’
‘Because, even though she hasn’t heard from her parents, I am sure they will try to help her when they return and see the danger she is in. And they won’t be able to do that unless she gives me up. If she finds out about Rosa I know, and you know, she won’t. ’
‘But Patrick, now you can marry Josie before—’
‘No, Mam!’ Patrick clutched the iron bars between him and his mother. ‘I might be free to marry her, but without a blessed miracle, I won’t be able to for seven years.’
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Josie rested her hand on the brick wall outside the yard door and let the wave of nausea subside. Since she’d watched Patrick being dragged half conscious from the court she’d started each day outside the house losing her breakfast in the gutter. Although she hadn’t yet fainted, she had to be careful when she stood up suddenly or moved too fast. There wasn’t a day that passed without her having to stop and steady herself against a nearby wall. The misery of her morning sickness was compounded by lack of sleep and constant worry.
Each night she crawled under the covers, her mind and body aching with fatigue, and rested her hand on Patrick’s side of the bed, but sleep refused to come. She prayed for a few hours’ peace but images of Patrick’s anguished face played over and over in her mind.
Quite apart from the constant fear for Annie and Mickey, there were other troubles, not so urgent but just as real, like the rent, and money for food. Without Patrick’s income there was precious little coming into the house. Sarah still did her bit of home sewing but that only brought in a few pennies and, although Kate had given her mother five shillings, together the two women’s income didn’t cover half of what the landlord demanded. The last few shillings from the money Bobby had sent had paid last week’s rent and there was enough food for six or seven days, but after that they would be on the streets.
Mattie would take them in but she couldn’t support them for long with a new baby due any moment.
Josie could not allow herself to stand idly by. She decided that she must take action to find a way of supporting Patrick’s children and the baby she was carrying. Neither she nor Patrick’s children would ever be forced into the workhouse so, despite her stomach’s morning rebellion and her head begging for rest, she straightened up. She wiped her mouth with her handkerchief and made her way back inside the house.
Kate had already left for work so Josie splashed boiling water on the damp tea leaves in the pot and waited for them to brew.
Her nausea had subsided a little and she smoothed her hand over her stomach. She had only just missed her second monthly visit so the small life inside her hadn’t yet changed her shape but already she loved the child. Although the Nolan women had guessed her secret almost as soon as she had, Patrick didn’t know. He had enough to torment him and she was glad not to add to it.
It wasn’t yet eight so Josie poured her weak tea into a mug and settled down in the chair by
the fire. Putting the mug beside her to cool she closed her eyes and let her head fall back. She must have nodded off because she jumped awake with her heart beating wildly at the click of the back door being quietly opened.
Her eyes darted around the room, then her shoulders relaxed as she spotted Meg Purdy’s face peeking around the edge of the back door. Although it was already warm outside, Meg had a large shawl around her head almost covering her face.
Meg’s gaze darted around the scullery for a moment before she ventured further into the room. ‘Mrs Olly next door is minding the kids so I thought I’d pop by. Are you alone?’ she asked, looking warily towards the front door.
Josie summoned up a brave smile. ‘I am,’ she said, and gave Meg a questioning look. ‘You didn’t need to come down the alley, the front door’s open.’
‘You know I . . . I . . .’ a bright smile lit up the young woman’s face. ‘How are you faring, duck?’
‘Not so bad,’ Josie lied, as the contents of her stomach rolled again. ‘Pour yourself a cup.’
Meg slid into the room and, keeping the shawl over her head, got herself a cup of tea. She perched on the chair in the corner.
‘Any news?’ she asked, the cup in her hand trembling ever so slightly.
Josie shook her head and wished she hadn’t as the floor under her feet went off kilter for a couple of seconds.
A man’s voice bellowed suddenly along the alleyway at the back of the house and another answered. Meg jumped, splashing tea over her skirt. She stared at the door to the yard in wide-eyed terror.
‘What on earth’s the matter?’ Josie asked.
The shouting stopped as the men continued down the alley. ‘They gave me a start, that’s all’ she said, with a hint of a warble. ‘What about the police?’
‘The police aren’t interested,’ Josie said. ‘My only hope is Superintendent Jackson but he’s still away. I am so afraid that when he does come back it will be too late and Patrick will have already been found guilty.’ Suddenly, from nowhere, a sob burst from her. ‘I haven’t slept for two hours together for days on end and my head is fair split asunder; and half of what I eat I bring back as soon at it hits the bottom.’
Meg’s gaze slid down to Josie’s still slender waist and her mouth dropped open.
‘But just at the moment, I tell you, Meg, as the Virgin is my witness, I don’t care about Ma, or the police, or the rivermen or even myself. All I want is just to have my family home and safe.’
Meg’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, Miss Josie.’ She buried her face in her hands for a moment then raised her head. ‘I should have come last night but I was too scared.’ She ran the back of her hand across her nose. ‘And you have been so good to me, you have, Miss Josie, and how have I repaid your kindness? I have dallied, that’s what I have done, dallied, when I should have come straight around as soon as I heard.’
‘Heard what?’ Josie held her breath.
‘Where the children might be.’
Annie woke and heard her brother whimpering quietly in the dark. So, gathering up the slack from the rope that held them to the wall, she shuffled closer to him.
‘Don’t worry, Mickey,’ she whispered. ‘Pa’ll soon be here.’
‘You said that yesterday,’ Mickey replied, ‘and the day before.’
‘But today he’ll come and find us and he’ll give Ma Tugman and her Harry a bashing they’ll never forget.’ She looped her tied hands over him to hug him.
‘Promise?’
Annie kissed his forehead. ‘Promise,’ she said as firmly as she could, stifling a sob.
If she’d had her hands free she would have crossed herself as her gran had taught her, so she just prayed silently to the Blessed Virgin and guessed the Queen of Heaven would understand that with her hands tied she couldn’t manage the proper reverent attitude.
When they were first left in constant darkness, with only scurrying rats for company, Annie thought they would starve, but each morning Ma came down and threw a bowl of slop at them. They had screamed themselves hoarse the first day until they realised that no one could hear them, then they had saved their strength.
Ma Tugman would call them her little chicks and sweeties and cluck over them but Annie knew the old woman hated them and would as soon slit their throats as feed them. Annie guessed that the reason she stayed her hand was because she had some nasty fate in store. From the whispers of conversation she’d heard, Ma was negotiating some payment for something but she wasn’t sure what.
The door at the top of the stairs rattled and Annie felt Mickey start to shake. ‘She’s c . . . c . . . coming,’ he said.
‘Now, remember what I said, and eat everything she gives you without saying or doing anything,’ Annie whispered. Mickey nodded his head against her. ‘We have to keep our strength up, don’t we? Pa will come and then we’ll be going home to Miss Josie and we’ll all be happy.’
The door opened and a light shone in and Mickey shuddered against her.
‘Now, Mickey, be brave,’ Annie whispered, with a great deal more bravado than she felt.
Mickey tucked himself behind her and jammed his head between her shoulder blades. Slowly, the crack in the door widened and the light from the lamp illuminated the barrels, crates and boxes piled high in every corner of the chamber. Annie squinted to allow her eyes to become accustomed to the light and blinked up to the landing at the top of the stairs.
She blinked again as she could scarcely believe her eyes. ‘It’s all right, Mickey,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘It’s Miss Josie!’
Josie cast the light around, creating blocks of shadows and eerie shapes as the beam illuminated crates and boxes. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she saw bales of silk and lace, tins of tobacco with wax seals splodged on the side, and draped sheets of sail canvas obviously hiding other items underneath.
‘Miss Josie!’ a small voice called across.
Josie swung around and saw Annie’s dirty face and then Mickey’s peeking over his sister’s shoulders.
Thank God!
If he knew that Annie and Mickey were safe, Patrick could endure imprisonment and separation but if they had come to harm . . .
Josie started down the stairway ‘Don’t worry, sweethearts,’ she said, as the wooden treads bowed and creaked under her weight. ‘I’ll soon have you out of here.’
Careful, she told herself. If she missed her footing and fell they’d all be done for. She clung onto the flimsy banister and made her way down in to the mouldy cellar.
‘Hurry, Miss Josie,’ Annie urged as Mickey started to cry.
Josie hurried down the steps but a loud crack stopped her in her tracks. She felt the tread under her foot sag and dirt pitterpattered to the floor.
Annie screamed. Josie gripped the banister. Something fluttered over her hand but she forced it to remain, grasping hold of the rough handrail.
‘It’s all right,’ she said, in as calm a voice as she could manage.
Keeping her head high and not daring to glance down into the stairwell that curled down beside her, she said, ‘We’ll soon be out of here and home.’
Slowly Josie lifted her foot off the faulty step and lowered it on to the one below until she reached the cellar floor. Dodging around the boxes and barrels she made her way to the children. She knelt down beside them and looked them over.
They were dressed in the same clothes as they’d been wearing when they’d left the house for school but now Annie’s blue dress with its cover-over apron was filthy and her hair tangled. Mickey, too, was covered in dirt, and even in the dim light she could see that he had cuts and grazes over his face.
Fury rose up in Josie. What sort of evil being would treat children like animals?
She ran her hand quickly over their faces almost to reassure herself that she really had found them, then she set to work and tore at the bindings around Annie’s fragile wrists.
Annie wriggled over towards her. ‘Where’s Pa?’ she asked as Josie’s na
ils caught in the thin rope.
‘You’ll see him soon,’ Josie told them.
She loosened Annie’s hands and the young girl rubbed her wrists before starting to pick away at the strapping around her ankles.
Josie turned her attention to Mickey.
‘I’m scared,’ he said as she crawled behind him. The damp from the floor spread through her skirt.
His childish voice echoed around the chamber and Josie glanced up at the cellar door at the top of the stairs. She hugged him and kissed him on his cheek.
‘Shush, my honey,’ she crooned in his ear, ‘we’ll be out of here soon and back with Gran. She’s got two big sugar buns for you and Annie when you get home. Now be a good boy and stay as quiet as a mouse while I get you free. Will you do that?’
A Glimpse at Happiness Page 33